


Man's Best Friend

by mitslits



Series: Prompts [26]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:05:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5075401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/pseuds/mitslits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If it's not too much trouble could you write Merlahad where Merlin and Harry search for the perfect therapy dog to help Harry out after Vday?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man's Best Friend

It’s small things at first. Harry’s hands shake a little more than they should, even considering his age. He’s too quick to whip around, reach for his gun, tense up at the slightest sound. 

Merlin does his best to be there for him, but Kingsman is demanding. The other handlers do their best to take up what little slack he drops, but there’s only one Merlin. 

What makes it even worse is that Harry insists he’s alright, he doesn’t need any help, Merlin shouldn’t waste his time on him. The shaking will go away soon. He’s just startled, not scared. And besides, there’s nothing wrong with being alert. 

It’s actually Eggsy who first notices it. Whenever JB is around, Harry is just the slightest bit calmer. He still flinches slightly at sudden noises, still curls his fingers into a fist to make the tremble less noticeable, but there’s just a slightly more relaxed feeling. Unless, of course, something disturbs JB. Then Harry’s instantly sharper, cutting his eyes around to look for the source. He takes his cues, Eggsy realizes, from the pug. If the dog is relaxed, then Harry can be as well. 

“Get him a dog, bruv,” Eggsy suggests. 

Merlin blinks, looking up from his clipboard tablet. “Sorry?” 

“Get Harry a dog. I think it’d be good for him.”

The idea sticks in his mind. A dog could be there for Harry when no one else could and he knows there are even ones trained to help troubled people. Deciding to get a dog is easy. Convincing Harry, on the other hand, is not as simple. 

He knows Harry. If he presents it in the context of ‘you need help, we’re getting Mr. Pickle 2.0′ it won’t go over well. But he’s made no secret of his disinterest in owning pets so he can’t very well say it’s for him either. Good thing Merlin likes challenges. 

-

“Come on. We’re going to the animal shelter,” Merlin says, already slipping into his jacket. 

Harry glances up from the newspaper he’s reading, brow furrowed. “And why are we doing a thing like that?”

Merlin’s already heading towards the door, leaving Harry with little choice but to follow him. “We need to pick out the breeds that will be in the next round of training,” he explains, throwing the words back over his shoulder. 

The excuse seems to suffice as Harry only nods and climbs complacently into the back of the taxi when it pulls up. His hand flexes once and he grimaces, gripping his knee to keep the shaking from starting up. 

Merlin pretends not to notice. 

They arrive to a chorus of barks and howls, sounds that grate on Merlin’s nerves but seem to have the opposite effect on Harry. His shoulders slump slightly and he walks into the building without even pausing to look through the doorway first, a rarity these days. 

A young, bright-eyed woman with her own clipboard (standard, not even high-tech; Merlin suppresses a sniff) greets them. “Afternoon, sirs! Looking for anything in particular today?” 

Harry offers her a charming smile and a slight shake of his head. “We’re just looking, I’m afraid.” He glances back at Merlin, who only gives him a nod. 

“Why don’t you head in there and take a look? I’ve just got a quick question,” Merlin says. 

With a look that says he’d better have an explanation later, Harry moves on to the rows of cages, each filled with a barking, wagging body. 

The woman turns to Merlin with a tilted head. 

“Do you have any dogs trained in therapy?” he asks, voice lowered, glancing furtively in Harry’s direction. At the least in the incessant yapping provides some cover, he thinks wryly. 

She follows his gaze and a flash of sympathy softens her face. “We’ve only got one at the moment. A little Yorkie female named Kiefer, if you’re interested.” 

Merlin nods. “Let me get him.” He wanders over to Harry, making it seem casual, pausing every now and again to ‘examine a breed.’ 

The young woman stays near him, subtly guiding them in the direction of the Yorkie. 

It turns out they didn’t have to try so hard. Harry stops by her cage anyways, a wisp of a smile on his face. “Hello, you. You’re a quiet little thing,” he murmurs, placing his fingers on the bars of the cage. 

Kiefer snuffles at them curiously, her tiny pink tongue darting out to lap at them. 

Chuckling, Harry moves his hand to scratch her ears as well as he can through the steel. 

“Would you like to hold her?” the woman offers, sensing an opening. 

Harry opens his mouth, but Merlin jumps in before he can say anything. “Yes, he’d like to.” 

She unlocks the door, letting Harry reach in and pull her out. “This is Kiefer. We’ve had her for months, but…” She trails off, shrugging. “Something about her just seems to put people off.”

Harry cradles the tiny dog to his chest, tilting his chin up as she licks at it, a paw placed on his chest so she can stretch her head to reach him. “That’s hard to imagine,” he mutters, stroking one hand down her head and back. 

Merlin lets him have a moment or two with her before placing a hand on his shoulder. “I think we should get her,” he says, looking at the woman and nodding. 

Harry turns his head to face him, incredulous. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m serious.” 

That’s when Harry’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “What’s going on here, Merlin?” he asks, Kiefer looking over at the magician as if she can understand what’s being said.

The woman backs away a bit, giving them some space and pretending to be very interested in something on the papers on her clipboard.

“You like dogs. It’s fairly simple, Harry. I’ve seen the way you are around JB. They help you,” Merlin states, inclining his head towards Kiefer. “Let her do the same.”

For a second Harry looks as if he’s about to protest. But then there’s a small yap from the Yorkie and she wags her tail as he looks down at her, large, earnest eyes peering up into his. He heaves a sigh before settling a hand on her head. “Fine, Merlin. For once, you win.” Then he cracks a wry smile. “Just don’t get too used to it.”


End file.
